The Clause of Separation
I drove by an all too familiar road,
it knows of all I am and
that which I've been given:
an irredeemable wish, and halted sighs.
Out the window, to the left is a hotel
I've seen every time I passed by,
but never cared to visit.
I'm saving it for the day when
a ground is formed amid this endless free-fall,
ending my descent.
The impact will shatter my ribs,
corrupt my organs, and bring on my final breaths
as I fail to breathe, yet still trying
desperately, and pathetically to cling
on for a few more godforsaken breaths.
"Oh dear, don't you see it now? This god of yours
has come to grant me the hornets of separation!"
I'll lift my hand out to the sky for the final time–
my wait will come to end as it dies along,
beholden by the audience of none.
My last reflections will be those of shame:
"How convenient it was to throw away
all morality away, disregard what my mentors
had to say at will, and still claim to possess
endless wisdom."
And when the next sun rises unbothered
by my loss, and my begging hand falls flat,
perhaps you'll too find in yourself
the forgiveness I begged for ever since we first met.